


3: Umbrella

by Riddlebird-puff (hobbitpuff)



Series: Gotham - Autumn OTP Challenge [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitpuff/pseuds/Riddlebird-puff
Summary: Day 3/31: UmbrellaEdward finds the perfect umbrella with a little help from Oswald.Read Series notes for Challenge details.





	3: Umbrella

Edward felt out of place in the store. Most items cost more than he made in a week. And more than a few cost more than he had ever had at one time. The money in his pocket made him feel guilty. He wished Leslie had not backed out at the last minute. She would not have been out of place here. Lee could fit in anywhere.

 

An employee started walking towards him and he fled deeper into the store on the opposite side. He was pretending to browse the umbrellas on display while watching the employee. Even the employee was dressed better than him.

 

“You look like you need some help, friend.” Someone had snuck up behind him while he wasn't paying attention. The man looked to be around his own age but shorter, though his high hairstyle made him appear taller than he was. And was he wearing makeup? “What are you looking for?”

 

“I'm… not sure,” he gulped nervously. “I'm looking for a gift.”

 

“For a boyfriend?”

 

“No. I mean, no, he's just a friend,” Ed stammered. “Actually his girlfriend was supposed to come with me but she had to cancel.”

 

“Is the gift for a birthday? Or graduation?” The man had a way of tilting his head that reminded Edward of a curious bird.

 

“Promotion,” he answered. “Jim made Captain so the whole department pitched in to buy him a gift.”

 

“And he has need of an umbrella?” The salesman took one of the umbrellas down from the shelf and opened it. The outside had been a deep color of purple that was almost brown but the inside was a gorgeous shade of lavender. “Does your gentleman friend have refined taste would you say?”

 

Edward tried not to chuckle at the thought of calling Jim a refined anything. “No not exactly. Not too much need for an umbrella in Gotham, is there?”

 

“No need you say? Did you know it rains forty percent more than average in fair Gotham, my friend?”

 

“You've made that up,” Edward laughed.

 

“Go ahead, pick one,” the salesman gestured towards the shelf of umbrellas. “I have found the right umbrella always picks her owner.”

 

There was one that had already caught his eye. It was a true green, almost reminded him of the flecks of green in the strange salesman’s eyes. His hand seemed to reach out on its own.

 

“I protect against rain and sun, however wind is my enemy, and open me indoors for bad luck to rain upon you, what am I?” Edward held the umbrella in his hand, and it felt right.

 

“You've chosen well,” the salesman put his own umbrella over his shoulder. “Open her up.”

 

Edward felt nervous as he pushed the button down to open the umbrella, almost like when he had shot his first gun when Jim and Harvey took him to the range. Inside was a bright lime green with plum colored polka dots. He knew he had to have it.

 

“How much?”

 

“Three-hundred and thirty-six dollars,” the salesman closed the umbrella in his hands. “But for you, two-hundred and twenty-five.”

 

“I really shouldn't,” Edward sighed regretfully. It would take more than half of his savings. He closed the wonderful umbrella and held it out to the salesman. “I'm sorry. But I believe my friend would appreciate a tie more than an umbrella.”

 

“Very well,” the man put both umbrellas back. “What color are your friend’s eyes?” He led the way to the tie racks.

 

“Blue. Maybe gray.”

 

“And his hair?”

 

“Brown. Blond. Sandy blond.”

 

“What color of suits does he favor? Material? Wool? Polyester?”

 

“Um… dark blue, navy,” he paused trying to picture Jim’s usual suits. “Polyester, I think.”

 

“And does he usually wear solid ties, or ones with stripes and patterns?”

 

“Stripes,” he answered. “Sometimes solids. Never patterns.”

 

The salesman picked up a tie and held it up to Edward. It was blue with gray stripes. “This should suit your friend, I think.” The way he said it, it seemed an insult.

 

“How much is it?”

 

“Seventy-three dollars before sales tax,” he replied. “But I can give you my employee discount. Fifty even.”

 

Edward breathed out. He only had sixty on him. “I'll take it.”

 

“Please, wait by the register while I gift wrap the purchase and I'll ring you up.”

 

It wasn't a long wait before the salesman came back holding a gift bag with the store’s logo printed on the sides: Van Dahl and Son.

 

Edward handed over the mostly small bills in embarrassment. He looked in the bag to avoid looking at the salesman counting the bills. His eyes caught a flash of green. He pulled out the umbrella in a panic.

 

“I didn't purchase this.”

 

“It chose you. It belongs to you now.”

 

“You don't understand,” he lowered his voice. “I can't afford anything like this.”

 

“You have a little over from the tie,” he shrugged. “Consider it payment in full.”

 

“You can't sell a three-hundred umbrella for ten dollars,” he looked around the shop, but the other salesman seemed to have left. “You could be fired.”

 

“The owner can't fire me,” he chuckled. “He would need to change the name of the establishment after all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We haven't been properly introduced,” he held out his hand. “Oswald Van Dahl.”

 

“Van Dahl,” Edward felt stupid, “as in Van Dahl and Son. The owner is your father.”

 

“And you are? I was hoping to get your name when you gave me your card.”

 

“Edward Nashton. My name is Edward Nashton,” he shook Oswald’s hand.

 

Oswald put the umbrella back in the bag and handed the bag to Edward. “Consider it a gift.”

 

“I couldn’t just take something so expensive without paying for it.”

 

“Then if you really must pay me back,” Oswald smirked, “take me out to dinner. Tonight. Pick me up here at eight.”

 

“I… don't know… I can't afford the places you're probably accustomed to.”

 

“Good. It will take more dinners to pay me back then, won't it?”

 

“Okey-dokey,” Edward took the bag. “It's a date.”

 

Oswald called out behind him. “And don't forget to bring your umbrella.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. This one is so corny.


End file.
